For many years, a degree from an American university was regarded as a guaranteed path to professional success in China. But today, Chinese students who study abroad are increasingly discovering that shifting geopolitics and rising nationalism have turned their once-coveted qualifications into potential liabilities.
Uncertainty around their futures has been fueled by policies like former U.S. President Donald Trump’s visa restrictions, which targeted Chinese students from universities suspected of military ties. Although some of those measures were softened following diplomatic talks, they left lasting scars. One such case is that of 24-year-old Barry Lian, a master’s graduate from southeastern China who studied in the U.S. with hopes of working on Wall Street. His visa was abruptly revoked in 2023, leaving him stranded during a summer internship and forcing him to compete in China’s competitive job market.
Despite sending out more than 70 applications to banks and financial institutions, Lian was repeatedly rejected, often before even passing the CV screening stage. He suspects political sensitivities and his U.S. education played a role. “Being caught up in the dispute between the two countries just left you helpless,” he reflected. After months of struggle, he finally secured a position at a private investment firm in Shanghai.
Lian’s story reflects the broader challenges faced by returnees, or haigui, as overseas-educated Chinese are often called. Although the number of students returning has surged,from 350,000 in 2013 to over 1 million in 2021,many are finding that the domestic job market does not welcome them as before. Rising suspicion of foreign influence under President Xi Jinping has reshaped employer attitudes, particularly in government-linked organizations.
In recent years, several provinces, including Guangdong and Beijing, have barred foreign degree holders from participating in the elite Xuandiaosheng recruitment program, which trains future officials for the Communist Party and government. At the same time, surveys show nearly half of Chinese overseas students aspire to join state-owned enterprises or public service roles, seen as secure “iron rice bowl” jobs amid a slowing economy. But these sectors are increasingly closed to them.
This skepticism is not confined to the public sector. In April, Dong Mingzhu, chairwoman of appliance giant Gree Electric, declared that her company would not hire returnees because “there could be spies among them.” The remark triggered backlash online, but it underscored the growing climate of mistrust. For many returnees, being viewed with suspicion in both state-owned and private firms deepens the sense of exclusion.
Analysts say this paranoia has been fueled by the Ministry of State Security (MSS), which has amplified warnings about espionage. Its social media campaigns frequently portray overseas students as vulnerable to recruitment by foreign spy agencies. Propaganda videos have dramatized such risks, including one that depicts a Chinese doctoral student tricked into leaking state secrets.
As Associate Professor Alfred Wu of the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy noted, national security concerns have become “a social norm” in China. For overseas graduates, this means that what once was a golden ticket to opportunity is now a mark of suspicion, leaving many in limbo,unwelcome abroad, and increasingly mistrusted at home.
